


Sandor and Sansa Remember

by rougefox



Series: You Can't Go Home Again (For the Holidays) [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Gender Identity, Lys, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougefox/pseuds/rougefox
Summary: Sandor and Sansa remember how they met





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the craziest, most bittersweet thing I have ever written. Almost all the events in here are based on experiences had by myself and some of my friends who are no longer with us. Sansa might be a bit OOC for some, but I think with her repressed up bringing she would totally go nuts, god knows I did :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sandor Clegane tucked his girls in for the night and made his way down to the living room.

 

 

The wedding had been fun. He was always amazed what Sansa could do when she put her mind to it. But he was glad it was over and Robb and Theon Stark were on their happy way to the Summer Islands.

 

 

He went to the frig and pulled out a beer. Not even bothering to pour a glass, he popped the top off and drank. He had been on his best behavior at the wedding, drinking only a glass of champagne to toast the happy couple. He didn’t want to stop drinking, but he hadn’t wanted his children to grow up in a house were dad was drinking himself to sleep every night to silence the pain from his own shitty childhood. So he traded 3 bottles of red wine a night for therapy and Ambien, though he hid the appointments under the guise of going to the gym and the sleeping pills where hidden in the back of his night stand.

 

 

_The things I do for love._

 

 

Sansa had been fidgety all night and was now spending her nervous energy rearranging the knick-knack shelf. Sandor shooed Stranger off the couch and took a seat.

 

 

“Sansa,” he called to her. “What are you doing?”

 

 

His wife perked up with a crystal star in her hand. “I’m dusting! I have gotten behind on my house work with the wedding and all and need to catch up!”

 

 

Sandor dragged a hand down his face. “Little bird, come sit down and tell me what’s got your feathers so ruffled.”

 

 

He patted the seat next to him but Sansa instead sat in his lap and curled up under his chin.

 

 

“My parents know how we met,” she whispered.

 

 

Sandor almost spit his beer on his wife.

 

 

He dropped the bottle on the table and sputtered, “How?”

 

 

“Well, Arya told me tonight that at the New Years Day brunch mother told her that I forgot to wipe the hard drive on my laptop when I gave it to Rickon. And my dad saw the pictures from when I worked at that bar in Lys," Sansa said quietly. "And Myranda and Mya know because they were there and Mya told Arya at my bachelorette party."

 

 

_Seven Bloody hells!_

 

 

“And probably the videos,” she added.

 

 

Sandor groaned; “You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”

 

 

“Well that explains why he hates you so much.”

 

 

Sandor couldn’t blame him. If he found out that a man did half the things to his precious little treasures that he had done to their mother, he would have ripped them in half. Especially if he had seen the videos from his last night in town.

 

 

“So why does your mother treat me so civilly?” Sandor asked.

 

 

“Well, she dated Uncle Brandon before she married my father. She’s experienced more of the _other_ side of life than my father. She’s more understanding than you think.”

 

 

“Oh. Is that the uncle who managed shitty bands and fucked everything with nice tits and good hair?” Sandor asked putting his beer bottle on the end table on top of a coaster. He wrapped his arms around his wife.

 

 

“How did you know that?”

 

 

“If you get a few in Benjen he likes to brag about how his brother dragged him around Westeros when he was kid and let him get a taste of "the life”. I think that was the best time of his life.”

 

 

Sandor sighed; “So was the video of my last night in town on your laptop.”

 

 

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

 

 

“You’re the one who started it,” he laughed.

 

 

“The only good thing is Arya thinks I was doing a silk aerial show for you,” Sansa said blushing red with the memory, even ten years later.

 

 

Sandor barked out another laugh then covered his mouth as to not wake the children.

 

 

He snickered; “That was definitely not a piece of fabric you were hanging off of that night, little bird.”

 

 

Sansa smiled up at her husband.

 

 

**SANDOR**

 

**About eleven years ago in a nice little house a block off the beach in Lannisport**

 

 

Sandor muted the rugby game and debated whether or not to answer the phone. He was comfortable on his couch and was enjoying three boxes of instant mac n cheese covered in hot sauce.

 

 

The problem was he knew the caller would blow up his phone till he answered it.

 

 

He sighed and pressed the talk button after he shoved a spoon full of macaroni and cheese in his mouth for good measure.

 

 

“What do you want, whorehopper?” he said through smacking lips.

 

 

“The least you could do when I call is take the dick out of your mouth, dog,” laughed the voice on the other side of the line.

 

 

Sandor grumbled then burped.

 

 

“What do you want Bronn?” he repeated.

 

 

"A woman who can cook a perfect steak with tits I can wear for ear muffs and an ass you can park a bike in."

 

 

Sandor grunted; "Try your mom."

 

 

Bronn laughed.

 

 

“Barristan Selmy is retiring you crispy son of a bitch,” Bronn said in serious tone. “Me and some of the boys want to throw him a party, but we want you to be there.”

 

 

Sandor read between the lines;

 

 

 _To pick up the bill_.

 

 

“So where is your globetrotting ass going to be in three months?”

 

 

Sandor set down the phone and rummaged through the flotsam and jetsam on his coffee table. He finally found his day planner under a skin mag and flipped through the pages.

 

 

“I will be in Highgarden shooting the Rose Bowl promo in nine weeks, then in Dorne for the Rhyonish Strong Man competition and then to Lys to shoot a car commercial….”

 

 

 _Oh shit_. He could practically hear Bronn’s mind squeal with glee at that last location.

 

 

“Lys it is!”

 

 

“Bronn, this is work and do you really think Selmy wants to spend a weekend with lady boys and donkey shows?”

 

 

“Who doesn’t want to do that?!” his friend laughed. “Old fuck has been in the service so long it’s a wonder his dick hasn’t fallen off from disuse!”

 

 

Sandor sighed and shoved another mouth full of mac n cheese into his mouth, purposely chewing loudly.

 

 

“So who else is going?”

 

 

“Me, you, Barriston, Mormont, Dane, Donderrian,” Bronn ticked off. “I think Lannister might join us, but he was a dick and thought he shat gold.”

 

 

“Alright, I’ll send you the information when I have everything sorted.”

 

 

“Great!” Bronn said. “See you in three months motherfucker!”

 

 

Sandor hung up and pressed the phone to his temple. _How the fuck did this turn into my party?_

 

 

Setting aside his lunch, he went over to his desk and sifted through some old folders till he found his old squadron photo from when he was stationed in Vaes Dothrak. Barriston had been their commanding officer and was married to the Corps. Sandor couldn't even remember him having a wife or children. Mormont was divorced and never saw his children, Dane had had a girl in every city and Beric was gay. Bronn still acted like it was his last night on earth and chased pussy more than a neighborhood dog.

 

 

Sandor didn't bother chasing tail. With his face being the way it was, the women ran too fast. He had a couple of neighborhood bars he frequented and flirted with the waitresses as he watched ESPAN. Sometimes one went home with him, sometimes not. There were women on the road occasionally, but nothing ever came of that. But still, he needed a weekend of gender bending prostitutes and unnatural games of ping pong like he needed the other side of his face burnt.

 

 

Shaking his head he called his booking agent and told him to make a long weekend in Lys for 6, perhaps 7 happen.

 

***

**Sansa**

 

**Two months later in Lys**

 

 

“It’s supposed to bring out your sexy side,” Myranda stated as if she was reading the course description again.

 

 

“Or a rash,” Mya groused. “Or a concussion from falling on your head.”

 

 

Sansa was so embarrassed she couldn’t even speak.

 

 

She had just wanted to go someplace exotic to get her mind off the disaster that had been her relationship with Joffrey. Now she was more embarrassed than ever.

 

 

As a business major she was eligible to go on the semester abroad to study the hospitality industry in Lys . Always the most responsible of her siblings, Sansa’s parents paid her way and gave her a credit card for expenses. A month in, her classes had been a breeze. She spent less time studying and more time laying on the beach with her friends. Myranda and Mya loved sharing a cabana while sipping cocktails and watching the guys from Sunspear and Braavos play volley ball. To round out their class load the three of them had signed up for an easy class called “Physical Entertainment”. It counted as a gym credit and it was taught in a shelter by the beach.

 

 

So far it had been fun; they learned how to catch someone on a trapeze, how to do silk aerial routines and even a bit of juggling. But now, Sansa knew she would fail because there was no way she could master the obstacle in front of her.

 

 

The stripper pole.

 

 

Myranda was a plump girl with bountiful breasts and a fun personality. Mya was more of a tom boy (she reminded Sansa of Arya) and liked men who could beat her in a fight. Sansa was raised in a very religious household, where her brothers weren’t even allowed to see her in a bathrobe.

 

 

The stripper pole might as well have been a Qartheen puzzle box for all they knew what to do with it.

 

 

“Ladees!” cooed their instructor, a beautiful lady boy with silver hair and bright violet eyes named Tam. “Why have you not mounted the pole?”

 

 

Mya and Myranda snickered, Sansa blushed red.

 

 

Lady Boys were the first thing that blew Sansa’s mind when she had come to Lys. They were boys who took hormones and had surgery to look like women, except for the last bit of manhood. At first her background made her appalled, but then she had met Tam, and completely changed her mind. Tam helped manage a club downtown and taught on the side. She was sweet and aging beautifully and never treated Sansa with anything other than respect. She had even sat Sansa down over drinks one night and answered all of her questions. Lady Boys were part of Lysian culture, so who was she to judge?

 

 

“Did you watch the demonstration?” Tam asked. Sansa had, just through her fingers. Mya and Miranda giggled through it.

 

 

“Well then, like you say in Westeros; up and at them!”

 

 

“Oh gods!” Mya said rolling her eyes.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Mya was lying on her back under the pole, Miranda had pulled a muscle in her thigh and Sansa was still too embarrassed to try and climb the pole.

 

 

Tam stood over them huffing. “You three have been amazing so far, but if you won’t even try this, I will be forced to give you a B.”

 

 

“I’ll take it!” Mya huffed from where she laid on the ground catching her breath. Myranda nodded and helped Mya to her feet. “You coming Stark?”

 

 

Sansa was staring at the pole with tears in her eyes. She had _never_ gotten a B before. She had had a 4.0 grade point average since she was in primary school. And now it was going to be ruined by a piece of metal?

 

 

“No,” she said with her chin up. “No! I can do this!” Sansa threw herself at the pole and tried to climb to the top, only to slide back down with a horrible screeching noise and land on her butt.

 

 

“Well, see you at dinner then,” Mya scoffed and walked to the dorms.

 

 

 ***

 

 

It took two whole weeks of practicing, but Sansa finally got down a routine . She would practice on the pole every night instead of going dancing with Myranda and Mya till she finally felt confident to perform in front of her instructor.

 

 

Tam had clapped and gave her an A. Then offered her a job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa performs and Sandor watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have floored me! I honestly thought 3 people might like this! So just a heads up, there is a lot of drug use in this chapter.

Sansa was humiliated her first night, slightly better the next and by the end of the first week she was actually happy to go to work.

 

 

Two weeks in, she was having the most unrestrained fun of her life.

 

 

Sansa would arrive at the club Tam managed after dinner and would spend the next 6 to 8 hours either swinging on a trapeeze above the throngs of foreign business men and drunk students or doing an aerial silk routine over the main bar. The bar even had a little platform she could land on when she was done.

 

 

She never had to work the stripper poles or the private rooms.

 

 

The people she worked with were nice (although Sansa learned her first day in the locker room that she was the only one with traditional female bits). Since she was hanging a good seven feet over the heads of the patrons she was never subjected to the harassment or expectations she saw the other girls deal with.

 

 

The money was really good, she shared tips with the bar tenders on top of an hourly wage. For the first time in her life, Sansa had some financial independence from her parents.

 

 

She still went to class, although sometimes she would be a wee bit hungover from the night before. She still managed to pull 4.0 grade point average, which made her wonder if the whole point of this trip was for students to ditch the parental leash over actual academic discourse.

 

 

During the day Sansa blew her new found surplus of cash on lavish meals for her and her friends, new clothes from the upscale shops and a rhinestone covered costume to make her routines more visible in the awful club lighting. Sometimes she even got Myranda and Mya into the VIP area were they met some of the more interesting celebrates that came through Lys. Although she warned them to never go into the private rooms.

 

 

Sansa was naïve, but slowly she learned what happened behind closed doors in a city that had legalized prostitution. At first it had made her almost quit but then the girls put her fears to rest; they pointed out they made more in a week than their parents made in a year working in the clothing factories. When a few told her it was safer working the clubs than the streets, Sansa burned with the humiliation that it had not occurred to her that some girls worked out on the street corner.

 

 

_You’re here to learn how the rest of the world works. Stop being such a spoiled, sheltered, coddled brat._

 

 

There was a part of herself who reminded her she wasn’t going to be there forever and could walk away at any time.

 

 

Still, Sansa kept to her high perch safe over the patrons and Tam never asked anymore of her.

 

 

Almost three weeks into the job, all of her preconceived notions of safety were shattered.

 

 

** *

 

 

Lys was hot. The air moist and sticky even at night. Walking the streets after dark with his shirt laminated to his chest and sweat dripping down his brow, Sandor hated it.

 

 

"C'mon boys!" Bronn smiled his shit eating grin as he lead them through the throngs of people in the red light district. "Let's have some fun!"

 

 

Dane chuckled, Beric shrugged, and Selmy looked uncomfortable. Mormont had drank too many fruity cocktails poolside that afternoon and was asleep in the comfortable air conditioning of his room. Jaime Lannister had not even answered his phone when Bronn called him.

 

 

The car commercial had been an easy gig. Show up, lift a tiny foreign car with several  beautiful lady boys in it a couple times for the camera, then collect a nice sized check.

 

 

He’d done similar adverts for sparkling water (carried a giant bottle of water), pork products (carried a hog) and a tire company (lifted a truck so an old lady could change her tire). The camera men were always really good at shooting around his scars and focusing on his muscles.

 

 

Occasionally a production assistant or one of the actresses or extras would flirt with him which would usually lead to dinner and a tumble back in his hotel room. But this time he had plans after work and was sharing a room with Beric.

 

 

It had been hard not to take the girls up on their offers; all were gorgeous Lysian beauties with long silver hair and flashing violet eyes. They smiled at his face and puffed out their chests so he could look down the low neck line of their tight shirts.

 

 

Usually he wouldn’t hesitate (he was male after all), but Lys was known for their lady boys; beautiful woman with a little extra. While Sandor didn’t fault anyone for whatever got their rocks off (after all the women who found him attractive must has some sort of weird fetish for big men with Phantom of the Opera faces), it was just that something extra never did anything for him.

 

 

Sandor had posed for still photos with a couple of the girls hanging off his arms then bid them all a farewell to go rest up for the night of debauchery Bronn had planned.

 

 

Now, walking around a street full of neon signs advertising all sorts of debaucheries he wished he had drank too many daiquiris and stayed in with Mormont.

 

** *

 

 

The first club they came across was called _Neon Cowboy_. The outside was tastefully decorated with a twelve foot high neon sign depicting a smiling and waving woman in a cowboy hat. Usually Sandor avoided dance clubs like greyscale (he didn’t dance and hated being smashed into all night by drunk assholes), but this one also doubled as a lady boy hangout and according to Bronn’s research was the highest class they (Sandor) could afford.

 

 

Bronn was not wrong; the place was lit by neon lights hanging from the ceilings but the alcohol was all top shelf and the clientele was richly dressed. The music was that thumping techno bullshit, but Sandor found he could tune it out easily enough.

 

 

They also weren’t pounced upon by the lady boys the second they walked in. Bronn explained the routine; you find one you like and buy her one of the designated staff drinks. These were overpriced watered down fluffy drinks, but as long as you dropped the money, she would stay with you. If you wanted to go somewhere more comfortable, that was extra. Every lady boy had a number on their shirt and you basically had to check her out for a set amount of time like a library book. There was a nondescript hotel owned by the club around the corner that rented rooms by the hour to make sure their employees didn't wander too far away.

 

 

“What if you go over your time limit?” Beric had laughed.

 

 

Bronn’s face got very serious; “You don’t.” And now Sandor could see why. The muscled bouncers in the club were plentiful and effective. Sandor knew he could probably take one or two in a fight, but he wasn’t stupid. They carried guns openly and took no shit.

 

 

Within a half an hour Bronn had two girls, Beric had one, and even Selmy had found something cute to sit on his knee. Dane had vanished into the gloom of the club, or was already around the corner. Sandor turned down many offers and relaxed drinking a beer at one of the bars furthest from the dance floor.  He leaned his head back to stretch his neck, and a flash of red made him look up. Above the bar hung a beautiful redhead swinging upside down on a trapeze like a little kid on a swing set.

 

 

_No, a little bird on her perch._

 

 

She was laughing with unbridled glee as she swung back and forth, knees hooked around the trapeze, hair and arms floating free. Her skin tight costume was covered in orange and red sparkly sequins that caught the light and shimmered like flame.

 

 

Sandor sat back and wondered who she was. She was defiantly not the usual club worker, and her outfit seem to show she may not be a lady boy at all. Her curves were too soft and her breast too bouncy to be surgically enhanced. Her hair was different to, not silver or white, but red (real red not out of a bottle) and the skin on her back was dotted with freckles.

 

 

Sandor ordered another beer and watched the little bird play on her perch above the crowd. When the song was done, she flipped off the trapeze and landed on a platform above the bar. She was helped down on the opposite side of the bar from where he sat and he lost sight of her.

 

 

Sandor was standing up to go offer to buy her a drink when a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder.

 

 

A huge Summer Islander wearing a suit and an ear piece with sunglasses perched on his bald head addressed him in a deep voice; “Are you Sandor Clegane?”

 

 

Sandor’s eyes narrowed, “What if I am?”

 

 

The man dropped his hand from his shoulder and held it out in a gesture of greeting.

 

 

“My name is Aero Hota,” he said. Sandor could see his gun under his suit jacket. “My employer, Oberyn Martell would like to speak with you.”

 

 

Sandor wracked his brain, he heard that name before.

 

 

_Oh yes._

 

 

Oberyn Martell was the libertine Prince of Dorne whose love of money was second only to his love for fucking everything that moved.

 

 

“I’m straight,” Sandor blurted out and the body guard laughed. He motioned for Sandor to follow him.

 

 

Sandor was let to one of the exclusive private rooms on the second floor of the club. It had a plush lay out with a large balcony that looked out to the ocean. There were two hot tubs out on the balcony full of men and lady boys. Inside there was a huge bar and a stage dominated by a stripper pole that must have been twenty feet tall. Couches, booths, small tables and chairs were arced around the stage. Hanging over it all was a loft area whose activity could not be seen from the floor. The music was still shitty techno, but it wasn’t as loud so you couldn't have a conversation without shouting.

 

 

Aero Hota led Sandor up to the loft which was filled with couches, floor cushions and a dozen beautiful lady boys all sprawled out like some emperor’s harem. In the middle of it all reclined a man with dark hair and a dark Dornish beauty. Both were slowly taking hits off separate hoses from a tall crystal hookah. It reminded Sandor wildly of an illustration from a book he read as a child where a caterpillar smoked a hookah while taunting a small girl with riddles.

 

 

The dark man watched him from under his hooded eyes; “I am guessing from your size and features that you are Sandor Clegane, the man victorious in feats of strength in my mother country?”

 

 

Sandor nodded and fell into a relaxed stance, legs shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Oberyn Martell’s father had found oil under the sands of Dorne. The man was so rich he owned the bits of southern Westeros that the Lannisters did not. He was defiantly his better.

 

 

“Yes, sir, I am” Sandor replied on his best behavior.

 

 

The Dornish beauty on the couch leaned forward to stare at him while Oberyn made a gesture to one of the lady boys. From somewhere a packet of white powder appeared and the lady boy presented it to Oberyn cut into lines on a silver tray balanced on her back. Oberyn leaned forward and shorted up a couple of lines. The lady boy crawled to the dark woman who also snorted a line.

 

 

Suddenly the prince was on his feet. He smiled at Sandor and reached up to grasp his forearms.

 

 

“Aren’t you solid!” he laughed then sniffed loudly.

 

 

“He’s straight,” chuckled Aero Hota.

 

 

Oberyn cocked his head at Sandor and let out a high laugh. “What a waste!”

 

 

The prince took him by the arm and led him from the platform onto the balcony.

 

 

“My dear solid man, your feats of strength a few weeks ago made me a lot of money,” the prince said, speaking swiftly as the coke sped up his brain. “For you see, I made a bet with Anders Yronwood that you would come in first in every competition and you did, so I quadruped my money and humiliated that stony piece of camel shit!”

 

 

They stood out on the balcony and stared at the sea for beat before Oberyn smiled at him like the Cheshire cat and squeezed his arm again.

 

 

“So when I heard you were here I had to meet you and thank you because with my winnings I bought this club and have been having an amazing time with my lover Ellaria. I am sorry, where are my manners, do you partake?”

 

 

At once there was another lady boy at the prince’s side with another silver tray lined with white powder. Oberyn leaned over and sniffed up another two lines.

 

 

“Gods!” the prince declared leaning his head back and breathing deep. “Best stuff there is, practically pure straight from Tyrosh, would you like some?”

 

 

Sandor waved his hand; “Thank you but no.” He had heard enough about coke to know it burned up your money faster than actually setting fire to it.

 

 

Oberyn looked at him with a pouty face, then waved his hands in the air; “I understand, you must be in peak physical condition, but I heard you smoke.”

 

 

The prince reached in his suit jacket (that probably cost more than Sandor’s house) and produced a cigarette case. He pulled out a long black cigarette and handed it to Sandor before taking one for himself. The prince pulled a gold zippo lighter from his other pocket and lit his cigarette for him.

 

 

“I am so happy you are here, my solid friend!” the prince reiterated in a coked out daze. “You have not only made me money you have helped he embarrass a stony piece of camel shit, so tonight anything you want you can have.”

 

 

Oberyn gestured around the balcony; “Boys, women, lady boys, drugs, booze, cigarettes, anything! Except my Ellaria, unless of course I can join in! “

 

 

Sandor took a drag and let the deep smoke make his head swim. “I am here with some friends…”

 

 

“Oh how wonderful!” the Prince said squeezing his arm again. “Hota! Go find my new friend’s companions! Gods you are so solid! What do you want to drink?”

 

 

_Anything huh?_

 

 

“A couple bottles of your best red wine,” Sandor smiled and took another drag. “And a real girl, preferably that redhead working above the bar.”

 

 

“A real girl? Oh how boring,” Oberyn signaled to his assistant, “Tell the management I wish to have some entertainment more to my conservative friend’s style. Preferably something in the ginger department!”

 

 

Sandor smiled and took another drag.; “And get rid of this fucking techno shit!”

 

 

** *

 

 

Sansa was up on her perch when Tam pulled her foot. “You’re wanted in the VIP room.”

 

 

“NO!” Sansa screamed over the bass. “I’m not….”

 

 

 _One of you, I’m not a prostitute._ _Even though I’m working in a place full of people who sell their bodies I think I am better than them._

 

 

Tam shook her head, if it was in disgust or pity Sansa couldn’t tell. “They just want a show,” she said. “All you have to do is climb the pole and spin down like I showed you in class.”

 

 

Sansa slid off her trapeze and Tam walked her to the stage door of the room she would be working.

 

 

“Relax, they’re Westerosi and so far none have done anything to the girls they have in there. I would have sent you home before I would let you go in there, but it’s the new owner with a handful of soldiers celebrating a birthday or something.”

 

 

Tam rubbed Sansa’s back in little soothing circles as they stood before the stage door. “The big guy with the long black hair is the one requesting the show. He hasn’t said anything about having a girl on his cock, but you could probably earn some money sitting in his lap. Just don’t look too hard at his face, it looks like he’s seen some bad shit.”

 

 

Tam shoved a shot of something sticky in Sansa's hand and she drank it down as the door was opened for her.

 

 

“Oh yes, he requested some heavy metal or such shit instead of the usual dance music, but just do the routine as best you can.”

 

 

_Oh no._

 

_** *_

 

 

Sandor relaxed on one of the plush couches with a bottle of red wine as the lights went down. Beric, Bronn and even Selmy seemed to be having fun drinking the Prince's booze and talking with the lady boys. The horrible dance music ceased and for an uncomfortable second there was silence as people tried to adjust to the sudden hush. The DJ announced it was time for a show on the stage.

 

 

Suddenly a chest rumbling bass line thundered from the speakers followed by a growling voice;

 

 

_"Eins! Zwei! Drei! Vier!"_

 

 

It was a cover of one of his favorite songs by one of his favorite bands. Sandor nodded in approval and settled into the leather couch as the pretty bird who had been perched over the bar took the stage.

 

  _My cinnamon girl  
_

_My cinnamon girl_

 

Sandor smiled and took a drink of wine right from the bottle.

 

_Life is good._

 

 

** *

 

 

_I know this song! I know this song! I know this song!_

 

 

Sansa had heard it enough when she lived at home. For almost a year it had repeatedly blasted through the walls from Arya’s room. (Although it was switched to a different song after their father tried to play her the original version that dated back to his childhood.)

 

 

_I can do this!!_

 

 

Sansa sauntered out on stage and grasped the pole.

 

 

 _I wanna live_  
_with a cinnamon girl_  
_I could be happy_  
_the rest of my life_  
_With her  
_

 

Sansa whipped her hair around and began her dirty little dance.

 

 

** *

 

 

Sandor leaned forward and watched the girl on stage.

 

 

She was beautiful, graceful; she made it look like she was merely dancing for the joy of being alive, not trying to raise the blood of the men in the room. With a smile, she climbed the pole.

 

 

 _A dreamer of pictures_  
_I run in the night_  
_You see us together,_  
_chasing the moonlight,_  
_My cinnamon girl. My cinnamon girl._

 

 

The little bird reached the top of the pole, twenty feet off the floor. She hung upside down arching her back for a beat, before grasping the metal again and spinning down, her hair fanning out behind her like flame.

 

 

 _Ten silver saxes,_  
_a bass with a bow_  
_The drummer relaxes_  
_waits between shows_

 

 

** *

 

 

_I’m doing this!_

_A dreamer of pictures_  
_I run in the night_  
_You see us together,_  
_chase the moonlight_

_Alright_

  
_My cinnamon girl._

 

Sansa reached the bottom on the pole and let go, forgetting to put her feet under her and landed with unlady like grunt on the stage.

 

 

** *

 

 

Sandor jumped up to his feet when he saw the little bird fall flat on her back. But a moment later she pulled herself up and spun around the pole again, her whole body screaming; _I meant to do that!_

 

** *

 

 

_Gahhhhh! What was I thinking?!_

 

Sansa straightened her back and forced herself to look out into the audience; there was a large group of people ignoring her and drinking what appeared to be their seventh bottle service. There were four other men at various tables around the room with lady boys in their laps (although thankfully it did not appear they were taking advantage of their services) and a man sitting close enough to the stage that she could make out the shit eating grin he was shooting her over the heads of the pair of lady boys in his lap.

 

 

Behind him, something moved in the shadows. The most massive man Sansa had ever seen was walking to the stage.

 

 

 

 _Pa sent me money now_  
_I'm gonna make it somehow_  
_I need another chance_  
_You see my baby loves to dance_  
_Yeah…Yeah…Yeah_

When he got close enough for her to really see him, she faltered. He looked like he was twice as tall as Joffrey had been, muscled like a bull and had long black hair down his back. His face though, Tam was right, he looked like he had been burned horribly on one side.

 

 

_It’s not nice to stare, especially if he was injured in combat._

 

 

Suddenly it struck her: everyone in the room except for the big guy had a girl in their lap. At the end of this song she would have to get off the stage and do _things_ whether she wanted to or not with him. No matter what Tam had said, she had been purchased.

 

  _My cinnamon girl  
_

_My cinnamon girl_

 

Somehow Sansa finished the song and after a graceful bow ran to the exit only to find the door locked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points for whomever can name that song! (hint; the cover band, not Niel Young).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rough draft of chapter three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Haz, Europa123, LadyCleganeofTheNorth who caught the Type O Negative cover of Cinnamon Girl in the last chapter (and Tilly who pointed out a big error that I was able to correct before hopefully anyone noticed). Type O was one of my favorite bands during my teen years. When I heard over the radio that the lead singer Peter Steele had died, I almost drove off the road on my way to work. When I finally showed up I was bawling so bad my boss thought my dog died. 
> 
>  
> 
> I've had some quite interesting conversations with a friend of mine about the similarities the lead singer of Type O Negative, Peter Steele has with Sandor;
> 
> 1) He was 6 feet 8 inches tall and in his prime was an avid weight lifter.
> 
> 2) He loved redheads and red wine. In fact he was once in the hospital and told the doctor his addictions were "Alcohol, cocaine and redheads."
> 
> And finally....
> 
> 3) He almost canceled a tour because they ran out of fried chicken backstage.
> 
>  
> 
> On a more serious note-
> 
> Unfortunately due to recent events in my private life I am unable to finish this work at this time. I am going through a pretty intense divorce at the moment and it's killed my muse when it comes to happy, sexy stories. 
> 
>  
> 
> But I am tired of this sitting here, keeping me from moving on to more topics with this series. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have put a synopsis of how the story was going to play out in the end notes if you're curious.
> 
> Maybe one day I'll be able to finish this properly, but till then I hope you enjoy!

This is a rough draft of the third chapter. For reasons I have explained above, I am not able to finish this work in the foreseeable future.

 

 

Sandor sat back and took a long pull of wine.

 

 

It had been good while it lasted.

 

 

_Stupid asshole, you chased her away. You chased away a fucking Lysian entertainer, Bravo._

 

He sat back and started on a new bottle of wine.

 

 

** *

 

 

Sansa rattled the door knob desperately trying to fly away.

 

 

_I quit! I quit! I quit!_

 

 

The music had stirred up memories of home. It made her think about Arya dressed in black band t-shirts and brightly colored combat boots that weighed more than she did. Of Rickon always covered in bruises became he didn’t quiet skateboard as well as he thought he could. Of Robb, Theon and Jon playing a driveway game of basketball with Bran in his new lightweight wheel chair. But mostly of her parents and what they would do if they ever found out what she was doing.  Arya was once given a week of toilet scrubbing for blasting a song about masturbation with anti-religious undertones; what would they do to their precious perfect Sansa if they knew she just performed a sexually explicit dance on a phallic symbol for man who had _paid for her_.

 

 

She was right, she wasn’t one of these women, and it was time to stop pretending.

 

 

The door opened, but it wasn’t Tam on the other side.

 

 

“You stay in there and go make the customer happy!” hissed one of the managers Sansa didn’t recognize. “He wanted you, and he paid, so you go!”

 

 

“I’m not a whore!” Sansa snapped. “I’m just here because Tam said I could make some cash hanging over the bar!”

 

 

Suddenly a new song started in the background. It wasn’t techno so she knew the world wasn’t returning to normal.

 

 

_Nuestra presentacion especial comenzara en breve_

_Pero antes un mensaje de nuestros auspiciadores_

 

 

The manager laughed; “You want money don’t you?”

 

 

“No!”

 

 

“You want out of this room?” the woman screeched over the resumed music.

 

 

 _Good mornin' ladies and gentlemen ("What hotel number is she in?")_  
_Boys and motherfuckin' girls ("319, 319" "Cool")_  
_This is your captain with no name speakin'_  
_And I'm here to rock your world_

 

“Yes!”

 

_With a tale that will soon be classic  
About a woman you already know_

 

 

“Then make the customers happy and when their time runs out you get to leave!” the woman snarled at her and slammed the door in her face.

 

  
_No prostitute she, but the mayor of your brain_

 

 

Sansa wrung her hands and considered her seriously narrow options.

 

 

 She didn’t know the song, but she would take it. If she was on the pole, she wasn’t in anyone’s lap.

_Pussy Control_

_(Are you ready?)_

_** *_

Sandor raised an eyebrow at the music choice. If there could ever be a swing in mood it would be moving from metal to funk. The little bird did appear back on the stage and after fidgeting for a moment, attempted to give another show.

 

 

** *

 _Our story begins in a schoolyard_  
_A little girl skipping rope with her friends_  
_A tisket, a tasket, no lunch in her basket_

 

Sansa reached for the pole only to find her hands were shaking. She thought about running, she thought about trying to break down the door, she wondered if she could climb up the pole into the duct work and squirm to safety.

 

** *

 

 _She got beat for some clothes and her rep_  
_With her chin up, she scolded "All y'all's molded_  
_When I'm rich, on your neck I will step"_

The little bird was shaking so hard she could barely mount the pole. Sandor poured the rest of the wine down his throat and set the bottle on the table. He was slightly buzzed or else he wouldn’t have dared approach the beautiful red head on the stage.

 

** *

 _And step she did 2 the straight A's_  
_Then college, the master degree_

Sansa’s palms were sweating so bad she could barely grasp the metal. Pausing, she bent over and attempted to rub them dry on her outfit. But the lycra did nothing to absorb the moister and the rhinestones scratched her flesh.

 

 _She hired the heifers that jumped her_  
_And made everyone of them work 4 free_

 

“Hey girl.”

 

 

Sansa spied the man from the curtain of her hair that had started frizzing from her sweat and the heat of the stage lights.

 

 

The man was enormous. The stage was high enough that it could be visible from the back of the room and he leaned against it, arms folded over the edge like he was a having a conversation over a neighborhood fence.

 

 

  _No! Why?_  
_So what if my sisters are triflin'?_

 

“Hey pretty bird,” he said, clearly under the effects of alcohol. “C’mon you don’t have to get back up there.”

 

  
_They just don't know_  
_She said "Mama didn't tell'em what she told me_

 

He held out a hand the size of a frozen chicken.

 

_  
'Girl, you need Pussy Control'"_

 

Sansa did a quick calculation of what she was willing tolerate in relation to how much she wanted out of the room. And into a cab, then into her dorm room, and under the blanket she and her mother had quilted together.

 

_(Are U ready?)_

 

** *

 

 

Sandor waved his offered hand to the pretty red head up on the stage. She looked like she wanted to cry.

 

 

He knew Lysian entertainers could fake a variety of emotions depending on what they thought would get the most money out of their clients. He had no doubt that they could play the vulnerable damsel in distress to make someone feel like a knight in shining armor.  But this girl look absolutely terrified.

 

 _Every woman in the world ain't a freak_  
_You can go platinum four times_  
_Still couldn't make what I make in a week_

 

Sandor turned his face so his scar was slight less visible.

 

 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said trying to sound nonthreatening.

 

*-* *

 

 

Over the thumping bass the massive man called out; “Do you want down?”

 

Sansa nodded. She walked to the edge of the stage and sat on the edge.

 

The man picked her up as if she weighed nothing and sat her down on the ground. His hands felt hot on her skin and reminded her how close to naked her was under the skin tight lycra. In fact her outfit left nothing to the imagination.

 

 _So push up on somebody wanna hear that_  
_Cuz this somebody here don't wanna know_

“Two sparkles and a feather, placement optional!” Miranda had squealed when Sansa had modeled it for her friends. Compared to the other girl’s outfits it was downright modest in the lack of exposed skin, but standing with the huge man’s hands around her waist she felt as naked as her name day.

 

  _Boy, you better act like you understand_  
_When you roll with Pussy Control"_

 

To her shock and slight embarrassment the look on his face made her realize that he was fully aware of how little she was wearing. From where his eyes were fixed it was obvious that he was puzzling over her obvious lack of a bra.

 

_(Are you ready?)_

 

** *

 

She was so delicate under his hands, her hair looked so silky it took every ounce of self-control not to touch it.  He couldn’t help but look down at her chest. The Lysian girls who had tried to get his attention by puffing out their chest like pigeons had nothing on the girl in his hands. She wasn’t as well endowed, but hers looked ample and soft. He wondered briefly if she was wearing anything under her outfit.

** *

 

 

_Remember your manners!_

 

Sansa mentally shook herself back to attention. She smiled up at the big man and put her hands over his still wrapped around her middle.

 

“Gods he could crush me like a bug,” said one voice in her head.

 

“Or flip you over his shoulder and carry you off,” said another that sound suspiciously like Myranda Royce.

 

 

“Thank you for helping me down,” she yelled over the music.

 

 

Gods he’s solid said her inner Myranda

 

_And a perv that bought a woman_

 

So? Everyone else in this room has one! He chose you!

 

_So did Joffrey and Harry for that matter, and look how that turned out!_

 

You’re over reacting! Do you see his arms?

 

_He could kill me!_

 

Do you see the way his shirt is clinging to his chest! I bet you could grate cheese on those abs!

 

_I couldn’t fight him off if I need to run!_

 

Why would you want to?! Check out his package!

 

_No!_

 

He’s staring at your tits, so you get check out his goods!

 

_No!_

 

Seriously, look down.

 

_No!_

 

Further

 

_No!_

 

Further

 

_Oh. Good. Gods._

 

I bet if you get a ring around that you win a stuffed bear!

 

 

_By the Mother!_

 

 

Sit on his lap and see if you win a prize!

 

 _But it's gonna be hard as hell_  
_To keep my mind off a body_  
_That would make every rich man_  
_Want To sell, sell, sell_

 

Sansa’s revere was broken by a shrill voice shouting over the music; “His time is up! You come with me!”

 

She felt an iron grip on her arm and turned to see the manger that had locked her in the room scowling in her face.

 

** *

 

Sandor’s gaze was torn from the little bird in his arms to the shrieking woman who appeared out of nowhere.

 

 

“Time is up!” she shouted over the music at him.

 

 

Sandor shook his head  and pried the hand of the scowling woman off the arm of the red head.

 

 

“I don’t think so,” he snarled.

 

 

“She has other customers!” the manger shrieked.

 

 

Sandor felt the girl begin to shake anew under his hand. This time he knew it had nothing to do with him.

 

_Can I tell you what I'm thinkin' that you already know?  
You need a motherfucker that respects your name"_

 

 

“I have her for the night. Just ask your boss!” he jerked a thumb up to the balcony where Oberyn was obviously having the kind of fun that should not be interrupted.

 

_Now say it,_

 

He showed his teeth in what he knew was a hideous grin as the shrill woman back down and vanished into the dark of the room.

 

_Pussy Control_

_(Are You ready?)_

 

** *

 

Sansa couldn’t stop shaking. They had wanted her to work another room, Tam might not know where she is, she would have been trapped and who knew how many more rooms she would have to be carroled into before she could escape.

 

 

She had seen the girls who worked the rooms in the locker room after hours. They would stand around smoking unfiltered ciggerrettes, drinking a dark sticky liquor and joke about trying to get “the taste” out of their mouth.

 

Then a miracle happened. The big man drove off the other manager and had asked if she wanted anything.

 

 

“Yes!’ she screamed over the music. “Away!”

 

 

The man raised his one good eyebrow. It was funny, she hadn’t even noticed his scar since he pulled her off the stage.

 

 

“To the hotel around the corner?” he asked, sounding surprised.

 

 

Sansa felt her stomach drop. “NO!” she screamed. “Away from here! This club!” I’m not even supposed to be here! I’m a student! I thought I could earn some extra money, but…..”

 

 

The big man nodded, “So where are we going?”

 

 

“We?”

 

 

“Yes little bird in a cage,” he smiled. “I bought you for the night; at least have something to eat with me and I’ll make sure you get home.”

 

 

Sansa nodded. He had saved her from a night of forced debauchery.

 

 _And the moral of this motherfucker is_  
_Ladies, make'em act like they know_

She held out her hand; “I’m Sansa, Sansa Stark from Winterfell.”

 

 

He took her hand in his giant paw; “Sandor Clegane, from Lannisport.”

 

_You are, was, and always will be_

 

Then he helped her through the crowed in the club to the employee locker room where he stood outside the door while she changed into street clothes.

  
Pussy Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pussy Control copyright Prince. May he not come back from the dead and sue me.
> 
> How this was going to end;
> 
> There were supposed to be two more chapters after this. They would have told the story of Sansa and Sandor spending the night wandering the streets of Lys getting to know one another. Their night was to end with them sitting on the beach watching the sunrise while David Bowie's song "Heros" could be heard in the background. 
> 
> Next night they get some sexy time in, some photos and videos are taken. Sandor leaves the next morning. Sansa decides she's done with Lys and moves back home. 
> 
> They reconnect months later at the Northern Heritage games, get married and have three little girls. 
> 
> The story ends with them ten years later. Sandor starts bemoaning the passing of his friends, the death of his favorite musicians, and the gentrification of the area that was so special to them. Sansa cheers him up by telling him she has the videos on a flash drive in a box in the back of the closet. They sneak off to watch them.


End file.
